Page 14 of Stuart Woods' Golden Hour

Braun and Schmidt had both lost their fathers for the same reason, and he’d let that blind himself to Schmidt’s deficiencies.

Braun thought for a moment, then said, “Let him play out his lead, but whether he finds Rogers or not, when he’s done, he’s done with special projects. I’ll send him over to security where he can play bodyguard for some heiress.”

“Understood,” Wenz said.

“And remind him, if hedoessucceed, not to forget the card.”

“I will.”

The business cards with the Trust’s logo on them had been part of Braun’s plan from the beginning. A little souvenir left behind to make sure the CIA knew why this was happening to them. Braun had been a child when the Trust was around, so there was no way the Agency could use the cards to tie him or his company to the assassinations.

“Anything else?” Braun asked.

“I’ve dispatched a team to check out the rumor of another Golden Hour agent in Romania. But that’s all for now.”

Braun’s mood lifted slightly. “Let me know if anything changes.”

Wenz bowed his head and exited the office.

As soon as the door was closed, Braun woke his computer.

Unlike other jobs the special projects division took on, the one to eliminate CIA agents who had been part of Golden Hour had no client. Or, rather, Braun was his own client. He’d been planning his revenge since he was a preteen, when his father—and Schmidt’s—had been murdered as part of Golden Hour.

He opened the list of Golden Hour agents his CIA mole had obtained for him. On it were twelve names, all current or former members of the Agency, and every one of them a murderer.

Four of the names had been struck through—the three recently dispatched by Braun’s people, and a fourth who’d died years ago in a plane mishap over the East Coast of the United States.

Teddy Fay’s premature death angered Braun every time he thought about it. Fay had been the prime architect behind the mission and had designed and built the device used to murder most of Golden Hour’s victims, including Braun’s father.

If Braun had been limited to killing just one person on the list, it would have been Fay. But the spy’s early demise had denied him that privilege.

His intercom rang again. “Yes?” he barked, thoughts of the missed opportunity still spinning in his head.

“Mr. Helman from Regent Swiss Bank on line one,” his assistant said.

Braun took a breath to regain his composure, then switched lines. “Gunther, how are you?”

“I’m good, Felix. And you?”

“Never better. I assume you’re calling about security for the bank’s anniversary gala.”

“Iam.”

6

At 11:00a.m.on Sundaymorning, a driver picked up Billy from his home in the Hollywood Hills and drove him to the Van Nuys Airport, where Centurion Pictures’ Gulfstream G-700 jet awaited.

A man in a black polo shirt and khaki pants met him at his car. “Good morning, Mr. Barnett. I’m Kyle and I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

“Good morning, Kyle. Are we waiting for anyone else?”

“No, sir, you are the last. Luggage in the trunk?”

“It is.”

While Kyle handled the bags, Billy boarded the plane.

“Finally,” Tessa said. She was in a seat close to the door. “We were beginning to think you’d found some way to weasel out of the trip.”

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